under the same sky
by stormsvrge
Summary: because no matter when or where they are, they're drawn to one another. [sasusaku] [oneshot collection]
1. Chemistry

**SSM Day o3:** _Chemistry_

 **Summary:** _Sakura really didn't sign up for this. (Or the one where Sasuke moonlights as an erotic dancer to pay the bills his internship can't cover.)_

 **Rating:** _T for language and minor sexual stuff (it's a stripper!AU what did you expect)_

 **Notes:** _I wrote this at like two in the morning after spending a solid hour doing anatomy studies that somehow all turned into Sasuke. I need an adult. Also, my YouTube history looks really,_ _really_ _weird now._

"Ino, I'm not entirely sure I'm comfortable with this," Sakura says, eyeing the flashing neon signs around her. Her best friend scoffs and flips her long, loosely curled hair over her shoulder. "You're always shut up in that lab of yours, Forehead! You're twenty-five. You need to live a little. Besides, this place is fine."

"Easy for you to say, you're here every weekend," Sakura mumbles, but she offers no further comment; rather, she can't, because they've arrived at their destination. The bouncer waves them in with barely a glance. They're clearly of age, or maybe he just doesn't care enough to card them.

The first thing that strikes Sakura is the music—dark, sinuous, and pulsing, almost alive—and the way the red and violet lights create a haze over the black walls and tiles of the bar. It's an unusual look, but one that fits the club's name. Insidious is definitely the sort of place Ino frequents; a sophisticated establishment with plenty of live entertainment and well-mixed cocktails. There's also a long, raised catwalk from the back rooms that connects to a large, circular stage in the center of the room. Her best friend ushers her to a table near said stage, her towering heels clicking against the smooth marble floor. Sakura suddenly notices a thin silver pole in the center of the platform and realizes what, exactly, its purpose is.

"Ino," she says slowly. "Did you bring me to a fucking strip club?" Ino bats her eyes in a mockery of innocence. "Not the kind of strip club you're thinking of, Sakura. You'll like it, I promise."

 _Well._ Her day just keeps getting better, doesn't it? Sakura looks around again, faintly hearing Ino order a couple cocktails for them both. The whole room has a certain plush feeling to it. Maybe it's the velvet everywhere. Maybe it's Sakura's overactive imagination. The world may never know. The cocktails arrive in a few minutes. Sakura downs hers immediately, vaguely tasting strawberries and vodka. She gets the feeling she really, really shouldn't be sober for this. Ino rolls her teal eyes for the umpteenth time and shifts so that her low cut dress shows off her cleavage just the right way.

Twenty minutes and another drink later, the room begins to fill. People come in twos and threes, all trying their damnedest to snag seats close to the stage. Sakura can't help but notice most of them are women. Ino snickers at them and waves down a waiter. "There's a reason we got here early, Forehead. The most popular act of the week is about to start."

As if on cue, the overhead lights dim. A smooth, soft piano riff starts up as a spotlight flicks on, catching a tall, lithe man in its glow. Sakura is immediately entranced, because good God is he beautiful. He looks ethereal as he prowls downs the catwalk, the juxtaposition of his pale skin and dark hair striking in all the right ways. Then he reaches the pole and, with what looks like no effort at all, lifts himself up and flips his body upside down in a blatant "fuck you" to gravity and the laws of physics in general.

His muscles move smoothly as he dances, pushing and pulling and creating enchanting patterns of shadow on his skin. He's barely even breaking a sweat, he's hitting every beat, and he's so sensual it almost hurts her to watch. And then he just _has_ to take it up a notch; he climbs up to the top of the pole and drops headfirst towards the floor, catching himself at the last second with his thighs. His _THIGHS_. Sakura can't even register the smug look Ino is most likely throwing her because her eyes are locked to the spectacle before her. The dancer throws his head back, arching his spine against the pole, and strokes his hands up the sides of his torso. One rests lightly on his throat, thin, elegant fingers feathering over the curves of his neck, and the other grips the pole behind him. A glint of silver catches her eye as he moves and _oh my god he has nipple piercings_. Sakura's mouth runs dry. Her heart is practically throwing itself against her ribs, and she swears he can hear it over the pound of the music.

He meets her gaze, and Sakura feels like she's suddenly caught fire but can't entirely bring herself to mind. There's a flicker of something in those impossibly black eyes, before he blinks and gives her a slow, sexy smirk. He effortlessly levers himself down, twisting as he goes, to land on his knees in front of her. As he leans back, putting his whole body on display, all Sakura can focus on is how beautiful this man is. He's not bulky, not by a long shot; instead, the cut of his muscles is soft and toned. His beauty is something ethereal and effortless, and the elegance he somehow infuses in every movement only accentuates it. Sakura is no stranger to this; in fact, she can name a few people off the top of her head who can do the same thing.

And then something clicks, and she's is frozen. Not in a good, aroused way: of course, the attraction is definitely there, but at this exact moment it's being overpowered by shock and just a bit of panic. She knows that smirk, just like she knows those eyes. Except usually, she sees them in the lab next to hers, on the reserved biochemist she works with more often than not.

 _Oh my god,_ she thinks faintly, as Uchiha Sasuke, one of the brightest up-and-coming minds in her oncological drug research course, gives her another tantalizing look to a dark guitar riff, _he looks completely different without his glasses._


	2. Lean On Me

**Day o4:** _Lean On Me_

 **Summary:** _Sakura has a rough day at the hospital, and Sasuke is a sweet awkward bean._

 **Rating:** _K+ for literally so much fluff and slight, nonsexual nudity_

 **Notes:** _I screamed writing this. Multiple times. Also, I did most of it while waiting around at Disneyland on my Grad Nite. So there's that._

It's been a long day. Sakura curses under her breath as she stumbles yet again on another uneven cobblestone. Pulling a double shift after a major surgery had not been wise, but what else was she to do? With the recent flu outbreak, the hospital was already overcrowded and understaffed, not to mention that five of her best had come down with the sickness. Add to that the surprise return of a very battered ANBU team and no less than six idiot Genin with assorted broken limbs and you have one very overworked, incredibly stressed out Uchiha Sakura.

The woman sighs, running a hand through her hair, and continues homeward—the Uchiha family's house is not too far from the hospital, but far enough that Sakura contemplates using her remaining chakra to simply teleport into her bed and pass out. She decides against it in the end, on the grounds that she needs a shower and a nice meal before crashing.

Sasuke looks up as his wife's chakra enters range. It's barely there, and flickering like a candle in a hurricane, but it nevertheless brings a small smile to his face. He clicks his tongue gently and opens his left eye. The Rinnegan pulses, and in an instant he is gone.

Sakura is halfway home when an odd popping noise sounds in front of her, and a warm, familiar chakra fills the air. She looks up with a tired grin. "Rinnegan? I thought I told you not to use it when you don't need to, anata."

He crosses the distance between them in three long strides, his lone hand taking one of her own. His grip is strong as always, but there is love in his firm hold. Quietly, Sasuke murmurs, "And I told you not to exhaust yourself."

Sakura's smile widens, and she pulls him closer, resting her head on his chest. He lets go of her hand and slips his arm around her waist, drawing her body into his. Her spine curves. She can hear his steady heartbeat. "Using your doujutsu too much is bad for you," she whispers, as his arm tightens and his face falls to her hair. Sasuke lightly kisses the top of her head, his mismatched eyes closing. "So is using all of your chakra."

Sakura giggles and traces her green fingernails over her husband's back. He's incredibly warm, radiating heat like a furnace in the cooling autumn air. His chakra wraps around her, enveloping her, and her eyes grow heavier the longer she stays with her cheek to his collarbone. "We should get home," she says with a tired laugh, "unless you want me passing out on you in the street."

He huffs into her hair. With a single, fluid movement, Sasuke adjusts himself to support more of her weight, and Sakura is struck by an overwhelming wave of affection for her quiet, awkward husband. His chakra flares, and their surroundings dissolve into amorphous blobs of color before reforming with the same pop she's come to recognize over the years.

A cutting board and some vegetables lie abandoned on the kitchen counter, but Sasuke guides her into one of the chairs around the dinner table instead. The pressure of his hand on her hip is comforting in its familiarity. "I'll run a bath and finish dinner. Wait a few minutes." He disappears down the hall, and moments later the sound of running water fills the house. Sakura sighs and leans back in the chair, half-ready to fall asleep then and there. Sasuke flits back into the kitchen, quiet as a ghost, his chakra bright in her mind's eye. A few shuffling noises later, he's chopping the vegetables again, the knife moving quickly on the cutting board. "Where's Sara?" She asks, cracking her eyes open in time to catch him turning his head away from her. Sakura resists the urge to laugh. He really is awkward. "She has an overnight mission. It was assigned this morning."

His unspoken message is clear. They have the night to themselves. Normally Sakura would try and capitalize on this rare opportunity (and Sasuke, for his part, never complains), but tonight she's too exhausted. Suddenly, her husband puts the knife down, turns on his heel, and makes his way back down the hall. The water cuts off, and he's by her side in a heartbeat. His hand is warm as it slides around her back again, his arm taking most of her weight as he helps her stand. No matter how many times he does this, no matter how long they've been married, the little things he does for her still shake her to the core. He's a sweetheart when his walls come down, not that any of their friends would believe her if she told them.

Sasuke undresses her slowly, with so much care it almost hurts. It would be sexual if it weren't for how gently his fingers slip over her skin, how soft his touch is. Sakura could do this herself-she's not so tired that she can't undo a zipper or button-but she lets him have his way. It feels nice to be cherished, to be treated as something precious.

She also may or may not enjoy the way he draws her near to unclasp her bra, and the feeling of his body against hers.

Sasuke shifts and his fingers stroke up her neck to comb through her hair, catching slightly on the tangles. Sakura rests her forehead on his shoulder and basks in the moment. He chuckles almost soundlessly and pulls back. "Get in the bath, Sakura."

"Mmmh. You're comfy," she whines. "What if I don't want to move?" His head drops to rest against the side of her neck, and she feels him smile. "I'll come back."

"Fiiiiine," she says, pressing her lips to his collarbone. He shivers slightly before replying with a kiss to her pulse. Sakura feels her face turn red as he pulls away from her and leaves her to her bath.

Sasuke moves on autopilot while he cooks their dinner. Really, his wife is too cute for her own good. It doesn't take long for him to finish up; he'd decided on tempura, which was both fast and easy. He piles the food onto a plate and retreats with it to the bathroom.

Sakura lounges in the tub, the ends of her pink hair floating in the water. Her head leans against the wall; she'd fallen asleep, even though he's only been gone ten minutes. Sasuke sets the plate down beside the tub and crouches next to her. His hand finds the side of her face almost unconsciously, tracing the line of her jaw with a level of intimacy he would've found impossible not that long ago. His wife murmurs in her sleep and leans into his touch. A part of Sasuke melts a little. He hates to wake her, but she needs to eat. "Sakura," he whispers, thumb stroking her cheek, "wake up." Her eyes slide open reluctantly, then brighten as they focus on him. "Dinner already, anata?"

"Aa." She moves to get up, but he presses his palm to her shoulder. "I brought it in with me."

Sakura's smile crinkles her eyes. It's something he'll never get tired of seeing. "Thank you," she says softly. She shifts, the water rippling around her, to sit up more fully. His gaze automatically darts down. He won't make this sexual, not when she's so exhausted.

There's a moment of silence between them when their eyes meet again. Sasuke feels his cheeks flush, just a little, when her face morphs into what he can only describe as devious. "Sasuke-kun," she purrs, "will you take off your clothes?"

He chokes on air, both at her use of the suffix and her lascivious tone. He just knows he's gone completely red in the face. Sakura roars with laughter, her shoulders shaking fiercely. "Oh my god, anata! Your face! I just want to take a bath with you, oh my god..." She peters off into light, airy giggles as Sasuke tries to redirect the blood from his cheeks to the rest of his body. He shakes his head, a smile coming unbidden to his lips. This woman will be the death of him, he thinks, and what a pleasant way to die.

Sakura slides her hands under the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his head. He takes care of his pants himself, and she takes a minute to bask in the sight of his well-muscled back. She scoots forward a little as he unabashedly slips in behind her, his chest to her back, his legs around her. The stump of his left arm rests on the side of the tub. She relaxes back into him, and feels rather than sees his hand move for the soap.

She lets him wash her, slowly, gently. The amount of love in his touch never fails to overwhelm her. He's so, so patient with her. Then her husband moves to her head and Sakura just melts under his fingertips. He's always been good with his hands, and damn if he doesn't show it now. He massages shampoo into her hair, nails lightly scraping her scalp in a way that makes her skin tingle. Sakura's eyes slip closed again, even as she leans into his hand. Sasuke moves to stroke her cheek, and Sakura turns her head. "Mou, anata," she murmurs into his palm, "you spoil me."

Her husband, her adorable, incredible husband, kisses the nape of her neck. She feels his faint smile against her skin, and her heart stops beating for a moment. "You can lean on me, you know," he says. "You don't always have to support me."

 _Let me support you too._

The smile that splits her face is entirely too wide for someone as tired as she is. Sakura scoots forward, ignoring Sasuke's puzzled grunt, and turns to face him. She doesn't care that her hair is still covered in suds, or that she has dark circles that take up half her face. In this moment, she just wants to show Sasuke how much his words mean to her.

That, of course, means flinging her arms around his neck and kissing him for all she's worth. Sasuke, bless him, is half-stiff under her, mostly because he's still trying to process what exactly just happened. Sakura laughs into his mouth as his muscles loosen up and he tugs her closer. He tastes like warmth and soap—the shampoo in her hair is starting to drip down her face. She starts laughing even harder, until she can't keep kissing him and has to pull away. Sasuke has the most hilarious expression on his face. He looks torn between disgust at the soap and confusion at her sudden affection. His nose scrunches up a little, like a cat's, and Sakura presses a light peck to the tip. Then she takes a moment to spit to the side. There's still soap in her mouth.

Sasuke gives her a small, rather lopsided grin. "You should rinse your hair," he says, hand coming up to wipe away the shampoo clinging to his forehead. Sakura giggles and lies back, dipping her head in the bathwater and running her fingers through her hair to get rid of all the bubbles. Sasuke watches her quietly, that smile still on his lips, though it's more muted than before. He probably doesn't even realize it's there, she thinks suddenly, followed by _god, she loves this man._

Sakura sits up once she's done only to find Sasuke balancing the plate of lukewarm tempura on the side of the tub. "We forgot dinner," she chuckles, half to herself, and reaches for a shrimp. Sasuke scoffs. "Hardly the first time."

"And after you worked _so_ hard on it too, anata," she laughs teasingly, bopping him on the forehead with her shrimp. Sasuke grunts but doesn't say anything. It doesn't take them too long to finish the meal; by that point, Sakura's momentary burst of energy is completely gone. Her limbs feel like jelly, a hallmark of serious chakra exhaustion, and she's having trouble keeping her eyes open, let alone holding up her own body weight. That second shift really hadn't been a good idea. Sakura falls against Sasuke's chest yet again, perfectly content to stay there listening to his breath and heartbeat while the water around them slowly cools.

Sasuke, however, apparently has different plans. It feels like no time's passed at all when he shifts beneath her and flares his chakra, the familiar violet glow of his Susano'o arm sparkling off the tiles around them. He gets up in one smooth movement, hooking his arms around her back and knees to take her with him. She fits her chin over his shoulder just in time to see an extra skeletal arm split from the one supporting her in order to grab their towels. Her husband sits her on the bathroom counter and proceeds, with an amount of patience and care that makes her heart sing, to dry her off. His hands rub at her hair through the terrycloth, and Sakura unconsciously tilts her head back. She hears Sasuke snort quietly before he lifts the towel off of her.

He's always been so economical, Sakura thinks. He dries himself quickly. His rough treatment leaves his hair frizzy, sticking up in places, and in general disarray. She'll brush it for him in the morning. Sasuke picks her up again and half-shoulders, half-kicks the bathroom door out of the way, footsteps quiet as he pads through to their room.

He slips her under the covers first, kissing her lightly on the forehead before he vanishes into the bathroom again. He reappears a moment later in all his nude glory, their discarded clothes in hand. Sakura takes a minute to appreciate the view; his pale skin is littered with scars, his body bound in bulky, functional muscle, and it's all hers. Hers to love, to hold, to treasure. She doesn't realize the trance she's in until he coughs lightly.

"Done staring?" Sasuke says, half-amused, as Sakura feels her face flame up. One of his eyebrows is raised, and he's giving her a smirk that says he knows exactly what she's thinking. A choked noise escapes her. "A-anata!"

Her husband doesn't reply, instead choosing to lie down facing her. The stump of his left arm twitches as she scoots closer, and he moves to pull her in by the waist. Sakura finds herself cradled against his chest for the umpteenth time that night, his breath light and warm against her forehead. They fall asleep like that, curled into one another comfortably, and as she floats in the limbo between consciousness and sleep, Sakura swears she feels Sasuke whisper something into her hair.


End file.
